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There was something vaguely familiar about the young man in glasses escorting the two blonde girls to the dance studio. The younger one was enrolled in an introductory ballet class, while the older girl was quickly commandeered by one of the instructors for, apparently, private lessons. Otabek stared at him, trying to place why he found the guy familiar. The dark blue button-down shirt and slacks were not exactly distinctive. The long blond hair worn in a braid down his back should stick out, but it wasn’t ringing any bells. The glasses, along with the staring at the book he was reading and not looking up since his presumed sisters went to class, made it hard to see his eyes. He thought they might be green or blue.
As if feeling Otabek’s stare, the young man looked up. “Can I help you… oh shit. No wonder you’re staring.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Otabek stammered. He ducked his head. “I’m just trying to figure out…”
The young man looked at him, head tilting to the side. “Wow. You actually don’t recognize me. This is kind of hilarious, although I am never telling a soul.”
“So I should recognize you. There’s something familiar, at least, but I can’t quite figure it out.” The young man raised an eyebrow, and Otabek took that as permission to keep looking for something familiar.
After a couple minutes of awkwardness, the guy cleared his throat. “Okay. Time to give you a hint.” He reached up and took off his glasses, and his features went from pleasant to scowling almost instantaneously. His eyes – blue-green – seemed to stare into Otabek’s soul with a challenge.
The flashback came instantly. He remembered a boy, about as old as the older of his sisters, staring at him with the same challenge in his eyes. Do better. Figure this out. How he hadn’t recognized Yuri Plisetsky… in his defense, Yuri really did look completely different dressed to take his sisters to ballet class. “Well. This is rather inexcusable.”
“Nah.” Yuri put his glasses back on, his face settling out of the scowl back to how it had been. “You want inexcusable, don’t recognize me as we’re walking out after sharing the ice at the Grand Prix Finals. I know I look really different here. Getting to spend time with my sisters has that effect on me.”
“I didn’t know you wore glasses. I mean, you wouldn’t on the ice, but…” Otabek shook his head. “I really am sorry.”
“I only wear them for reading, and since I’ve only started doing serious reading since starting university, not a surprise. The only thing about this that doesn’t make sense is what are you doing at a ballet studio in New York, because, well…” Yuri cleared his throat. “You’ve kinda been vocal in interviews about how you and ballet are not a good fit for each other. Which is fair, and you’ve found a way to give your skating your own flair in the dance parts. You’re actually one of my favorites to watch, because you do things I don’t think I could.”
The explanation Otabek was about to give stuck in his throat. Yuri Plisetsky, the twenty-year-old two-time world champion and three-time Grand Prix Champion, saying that Otabek did things he couldn’t? In what world? “You could. You absolutely could.”
“Technically, maybe. Thing is, I’m a bit too trained in ballet for it.” Yuri shrugged. “It’s a very different style of dancing, and I’d have as much trouble with it as you do with ballet. I’d end up changing the choreography to work better with my strengths, and I think it’d lose something.”
“Maybe.” Otabek took a moment to settle his mind. “I’m not here to dance, obviously. When I’m not on the ice, I DJ, and I got commissioned to provide some of the music for a show that the dance studio is providing dancers and music for. We’re supposed to be meeting to go over the music each side is planning on using to make sure there’s no duplication or anything too out of place.”
“Oh shit! I think Natasha may be dancing in that show, she mentioned that some of the music wasn’t going to be normal ballet stuff.” Yuri grinned. “Natasha’s the older of my sisters, and ballet’s not really her big love, but she wants to get into acting and figures having a good dance background helps her get comfortable with using her body to express things and being aware of what she’s doing with it.”
“Not to mention opening up roles in musicals and such?” Otabek suggested. “Really, good for her.”
“Okay, now that that’s settled.” Yuri crossed his arms, glaring at Otabek again. “You’re cool. Why have we never spoken before?”
“I… meant to all the way back in Barcelona, but then…” Shit. The last thing Otabek needed was to bring up what scared him off, but he kind of had to. Yuri still hated JJ, and JJ for some reason had started taking that more seriously and hating him back. “JJ and I used to be close. We had a falling out that spring, when I told him I was going back to Kazakhstan instead of staying in Canada with him, and then you and he started your whole feud. You probably don’t remember, but you caught a tense moment and called me an asshole for staring when I noticed you watching.”
“Well, fuck.” Yuri held out a hand. “I owe you an apology for that. My only excuse is that I was fifteen and going through a whole bunch of teenage angst and was a little shit to everyone, not just you. I hope you can forgive me and we can try being friends now?”
“I’d like that.” Otabek took Yuri’s hand for a shake.